


State of Undress

by cosmic_possum



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: AHH, F/M, idk - Freeform, its a joke, probably, reader is female btw, so you know how theres a state of unrest, theres some ust i guess, this is a state of undress
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-13
Updated: 2016-11-13
Packaged: 2018-08-30 17:05:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8541523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cosmic_possum/pseuds/cosmic_possum
Summary: Reader, you've got the flu. Morrison saves the day.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I've got a cold. thought about this while rolling around in bed and suffering.
> 
> yeah, this is the first fic i've let slide off my usb drive. hope its okay. there's just not enough soldier:76/reader fic out there.
> 
>  
> 
> no smut yet, ive got yet to be bold enough to let that out lol

You shouldn't have agreed to go to Nepal.

A raging fever, runny nose, sore muscles, the whole nine.

It was evident that you had the flu. You tried your best to secretly wipe your nose here, suppress a cough there; it just wasn't working. While on the craft, you let out a nasty cough. Thankfully everyone else was asleep or dozing, so no one acknowledged it. Or so you thought.

Commanding officer Morrison's head snapped to your direction. The sudden movement made you flinch: he was awake... Ohhh god.

He was probably going to order you to stay on the ship while they fulfilled the mission. You weren't about to let that happen.

Instead of coughing some more, you cleared your throat and adjusted your posture. You had tried to sleep like everyone else, but your body protested. Your stuffy nose made sleep virtually impossible.

Morrison's head returned to its original position, making you sigh in relief. You were fine for now.

 

 

_____

 

The battlefield was blurry for the most part. Your eyes watered non-stop while you tried to reload your gun. Your hand slipped, golden bullets littering the tile floor.

"Fuck..." you croaked, bending to pick them up.

"Having trouble, agent?"

You stood up as fast as you could, which turned out to be a horrible idea. Your hand immediately reached for your head, searing pain permeating throughout your skull.

"C-commander!" you rasped, saluting the best you could. The commander was leaned against the wooden doorway in the room you were attempting to snipe from. From what you could assume, he was pissed, not because you were slacking, but because he knew you were unwell.

"At ease, soldier." he voiced.

You squinted and awaited his next conversation. When there was none, you rushed to explain yourself.

"Ah, sir! I j-just dropped my bullets, sir..." you trailed off, attempting to reach for the scattered bullets once more. As soon as you were within reach of the bullets, you stopped. The world was spinning around you. You opened your mouth to breathe easier, but that didn't help. You collapsed, finding yourself on the floor in front of your commanding officer. Your face flushed.

"Sorry sir," you began. Commander Morrison folded his arms and sighed behind his visor.

"You and I both know you're sick." he growled. You peered up at him through heavy eyelids, expecting a reprimand. You expected him to say something about the thin coat you wore, and how it was doing a terrible job of keeping you warm. But just as before, there was no argument. 76 leaned his gun against the wall.

"I'm taking you back to the ship." he stated, scooping your bullets off the floor and pocketing them. He put your gun back in its case and turned his head toward you. Leaning against the leg of a table, you closed your eyes - This was it. You'd never be able to go on missions again.

 

The commander slung the cased gun over his shoulder and slid his arm under your leg. You shivered at the contact.

"I'm gonna pick you up," he said, lifting you off the ground. For the most part, you were stunned at the man's strength. Surely you were hallucinating? You were more than certain that commander Morrison was probably decades older than you, and yet he lifted you as if you weighed nothing.

The trek through the snow outside was hazy, as you were on your way to sleep. Every once in a while, your commanding officer would tap your thigh to make sure you were still conscious.

"We're almost there," you heard him say. You were just glad to be off your feet.

 

________________________________

 

You hear a hiss and clank and suddenly you are engulfed in warmth. Morrison had ordered Athena to turn up the heat beforehand. What a smart man.

He didn't set you down, though, which was surprising. He started down the corridor. Maybe he was taking you to your room? Yes, that had to be it.

...But that wasn't it. You noticed that he passed your room completely, the blue door getting smaller as he continued walking.

Was he taking you to his room? Why...?

Commander Morrison came to a halt at his door as he scanned his fingerprint. The door whooshed open and he stepped in.

The first thing he did was lay you on his bed. You curled yourself into a ball and hugged your legs in attempt to find warmth. Something was unzipped and thrown to the side. You watched your commanding officer disappear into his bathroom and emerge with a vial.

You felt a hand on your back shake you and encourage you to comply.

"Sweetheart..." he whispered gently. It was alarmingly comforting to hear him call you that. You decided that you fancied the pet name.

When he realized that you had no interest in cooperating, he grunted and lifted you into his lap. The sudden movement made you squeak in surprise. Commander Morrison took the opportunity and forced the glass vial into your open mouth. With one hand he gently closed your jaw, and then suddenly there was cold liquid pooling on your tongue.

It was a flu serum, you realized

"Swallow, sweetheart," Commander Morrison encouraged. You did, scowling as the thick liquid slid down your throat. When the vial was empty, Morrison removed it from your mouth.

"...Agent," he began. You sensed a lick of discomfort in his voice. You hummed weakly in reply.

Commander Morrison cleared his throat. "I think it would be...best if you..." he paused, "took a bath. Or...something. To get you warm, of course." You felt his hands at your midsection as he picked you up and set you on the bed again. You groaned at the loss of his body heat.

He disappeared into the bathroom again. You heard a squeak and then running water.

...Was your commanding officer about to...bathe you? Oh goodness...

Commander Morrison was back with you in a flash, his skin damp from the steam. He brushed your hair away from your neck and searched for your pulse with cold fingers.

The serum was taking effect, you noticed, as your eyelids were beginning to feel heavy. Morrison acknowledged your fatigue.

"Don't fall asleep just yet," he chided gently. You giggled at the sound of his gruff voice. It was so...soothing.

Commander Morrison put his hand on your shoulder. "Agent, I need to undress you so you don't get pneumonia. Do you consent?"

With glazed eyes, you stared at the red glass in his visor. It was such a pretty color. You reached out to touch it. Before your fingertips could reach their destination, Morrison took your gloved hand in his.

"Agent, do you consent?" he questioned again, pulling your gloves off of your hands. You nodded weakly, knowing that it was best for you to cooperate. After all, a bath did sound nice.

Morrison unbuttoned you coat and slid it from your shoulders. Your skin tingled as the warm air of the craft warmed you. As your eyes drooped closed, Morrison cleared his throat.

"...Jeez agent, how do you move around in this thing?"

You assumed he was referring to your jumpsuit. It was one of Lena's; she'd given you about a dozen of them in every color for your birthday. You knew that it hugged your body in all the right places and displayed your assets. It seemed that your commanding officer was now aware of that fun fact. You felt a hand at the zipper.

"I'm unzipping your suit, agent." he choked out. Surprisingly, you were perfectly fine with the gesture. You knew that your commanding officer would never cause you harm.

Morrison unzipped you suit all the way and removed your limbs from it. You were blushing, of course; the serum was doing funny things to your head. Your commander lifted you into his arms and carried you to the bathroom.

Soft light greeted your eyes when you opened them. In a fog, you saw Commander Morrison bending over the bathtub, twisting the knob. You were on the counter, you realized. When had he put you down?

Morrison turned to you. His jacket was gone, and now you were able to (kind of) see his form. The man was...built.

"Do you think you can manage without my help?" he asked awkwardly. Rubbing your stinging eyes, you nodded slowly.

"All right, then. I'll leave you to it." Morrison scratched the back of his neck as he exited, closing the door halfway.

You gazed across the room at the bathtub. It seemed so far away. You slid off the counter onto shaky legs. You had only taken four steps when your legs decided to give out. You had fallen. Again. Dammit.

Instead of crying out, a loud laugh bubbled from inside of you. A knock on the door disrupted your laughter.

"All right in there, agent?" commander Morrison inquired. You weren't okay, you decided.

"N-no..." you rasped. The door swung open. Commander Morrison rushed to your side and took your face in his hands.

"I gave you too much..." he grumbled, pulling your eyelids back and checking your eyes. "I'm gonna have to help you, agent."

In all honesty, you weren't protesting. You hummed in response when he asked for consent once again. Your commander took you in his arms once more and sat you on the edge of the bathtub. The cold porcelain made you hiss in protest as it came in contact with your overheated skin. Warm hands came to rest on your back. Morrison's fingers slipped under the clasp of your bra, and with deft movements, it was off.

"Hrm..." Morrison grunted. You noticed that he had angled his head so that he was looking away from you. "Sweetheart, do you think you can do the rest yourself?" he strained. You figured that maybe this made him uncomfortable. Leaning your head against the tiled wall you whimpered. When you expressed that you couldn't move your arms, Your commanding officer sighed and looped his thumbs into your panties and quickly sliding them down your legs.

Morrison lifted you and set you in the hot water. You let out a soft moan at the contact, grateful for the heat. He even added bubbles.

Commander Morrison retrieved a towel and dried his hands. "Do you still require my assistance, agent?" he asked, his back facing you. By this point, you were on your way to sleep. His voice jolted you awake.

"I j-just...could you wash my hair, sir?" you asked quietly. Your commanding officer regarded your request, placing the towel on the counter.

With a reluctant pause, he accepted your request. Morrison kicked off his shoes and socks and rolled up his jeans.

Within seconds, your commanding officer was stepping into the tub. With a grunt, he sat on the edge of the tub behind you. Morrison cupped his hands and scooped water onto your head. The warm water sent tingles down your spine.

"Winston is giving you two days off," Morrison said as he flipped the cap on a bottle of shampoo. You frowned. Morrison pulled you by the shoulders to lean on his legs.

"I don't need that much time off!" you exclaimed. Your voice was weak so it was more of a delayed conglomerate of words. Commander Morrison swept the shampoo through your hair and lathered.

"You do, agent. Nepal is under three feet of snow. That does no good when you have the flu." Morrison's fingers swept the base of your neck and you closed your eyes, savoring his touch. He must have recognized your reaction, because he did it again.

"W-well," you coughed, "Who's gonna replace me?" you were close to fuming by now. That gorilla could shove that peanut butter up his ass for all you cared.

Morrison scooped more water onto your head, washing the bubbles away. "Jesse. Or that new hacker girl. Sondra"

"It's  _Sombra_ " you corrected. Morrison waved your correction away.

  "Whoever the hell it is, they'll cover for you until you're well again." Commander Morrison stood and lifted himself out of the tub. "I'll be right back."

  Commander Morrison returned with folded clothes.

  "You ready to get out of there? You're gonna turn into a raisin." Commander Morrison had a sense of humor?

  You turned your head as much as your sore muscles would allow.

  "Five more minutes?"

 

______________________________________

 

  You were lifted out of the tub in a warm towel.

  "You fell asleep." A voice stated. _That's right...Morrison drew you a bath._

  Leaning into his shoulder, you muttered an apology.

  Morrison placed you on his bed.

  "You okay with wearing these?" your commanding officer asked. He held up a pair of what appeared to be....briefs.... _his_ briefs...

  "Wouldn't've been right to go through your underwear drawer."

  Blushing, you covered your face with your arms and nodded. Morrison, now on one knee, slipped your feet through the holes and hiked the briefs up your legs and over your hips. His touch against your damp skin was heavenly. Morrison unfolded a sweatshirt and held it open while you fit yourself into it. It smelled strongly of detergent, like he washed it every day.

  Noticing your drooping eyelids, Commander Morrison came beside you and pulled the covers back.

  "I suppose you want to sleep now," he stated. You nodded and sniffed. Crawling into the sheets, you shifted until you were drowning in an ocean of warmth. Once you were situated, you looked at your commanding officer.

  "Will you sleep too?" you tried sleepily. Commander Morrison stood ramrod straight.

  "T-that's strictly against protocol, agent." Morrison stammered, pulling the chair from under his desk and sitting down.

  "Please?" you pried. Commander Morrison put his head in his hands. Only when you heard a hissing sound did you realize he was removing his visor. Your eyes met, and you were done for.

  Your commanding officer was _disturbingly_ handsome. The second thing you noticed were his scars.

  A gasp and a dreary 'whoa' escaped you. Morrison... _blushed_...You didn't think the man could do such a thing. Especially under all that  _steel._

  "Agent..." he trailed, training his gaze upon you. Warmth flooded your chest. "You're asking me to sleep with you?" Your commanding officer fiddled with his visor.

  You mustered a smile, and it must have worked because next thing you know, Morrison was in the bathroom and out again, wearing a black shirt and sweatpants. He ran his hand through his white hair.  

  "Listen, sweetheart, I'm only indulging you because you're unwell. This won't happen again." Commander Morrison's face was a deep shade of red. 

 

  You croaked out an understanding. Morrison slipped in bed beside you, doing his best to position himself as far away from you as possible. He lay there awkwardly beside you. You whined.

  "I'm not snuggling you. That's  _severely_ against protocol." Morrison barked. He reached up and closed your drooping eyelids.

  "Sleep, sweetheart." he commanded. 

 

  ...And sleep you did.

 

  

 

 

________________________________________

 

  A few hours later, or so it seemed, you awoke to glorious warmth and strong arms. 

  Morrison was wrapped around you like a vine. A big, strong vine... He muttered something into your neck and squeezed you tighter.

  You shifted until you were facing him.

  "...We shouldn't be doing this," he began, his sleepy voice pleasantly rough. "It's strictly ag-"

  "Against protocol, yeah, I know." Both of you laughed softly. You snuggled deeper into his chest and he pulled you closer.

 

 

  " _Against protocol my ass"_ you whispered into him.


End file.
